My Little Bread Boy
by BreezyTV
Summary: ONESHOT. As Gale sits in his Capital dungeon, awaiting certain torture and death, all he can think about his little bread boy. Gale/Peeta Romance.


**A/N: I FREAKING LOVE GALE/PEETA! Sorry, people but I love them together. I don't know why but I do. This is my first Hunger Games so yeah, feeling kinda proud of myself. Hope you enjoy.**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I don't own any songs, any movies, any lyrics, any characters, the books: The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, or Mockingjay, and/or any real celebrities that may appear in this story. I'm just borrowing them for this story. I don't get any profit from this story. However, I do own any original characters that may appear in the story.**_

_**Content Warning: This story features a romantic relationship between two male characters. It also contains mild language, some violence, and mentioned rape and prostitution. Now if any of these subjects offends you, please do not read this story.**_

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My name is Gale Hawthorne. I am nineteen years old. I am a rebel. I was captured by the Capital and is now waiting for them to kill me. I should be afraid that I'm going to dead but I'm not.

I'm dying to protect _him_.

A rescue mission gone bad. That's what happened. Evade the Capital, rescue Peeta, and get out as fast as possible. Simple, right?

We had everything planned out. Every pod, every booby trap, we figured out everything. And until now, it went so perfectly.

What went so wrong?

Peacekeepers. They come in with their whips and beat me, trying to get answers about the squad's whereabouts. Trying to get to Peeta. So of course I won't tell them.

They might have broken my arms and legs, whipped me until my body was nothing but a mess of angry, bleeding cuts and welts, beaten me until both my eyes were swollen shut, my ears bleeding, my lips busted, and a few of my teeth were missing. But I'll won't tell.

I'll never tell.

This whole thing between me and the boy with the bread is complicated. Hell, our first meeting wasn't really exciting or romantic. It was back during a time where life was simpler. Back when mine and Catnip's fathers were still alive.

It was a good day in the Seam. My dad came home, smiling. He picked up my mom and swung her around, kissing her. He had enough money to buy bread in the bakery in the merchant part of District 12. And he brought me along with him.

I heard rumors that the baker's wife was a witch. And that she beats her sons and her husband. When I ask my father about it, all he did was sigh and said, "Those poor boys."

The bakery was something I'll never forget. Walls lined with beautiful, decorative cakes and the smell of fresh beard baking made this place like heaven. My dad going up to the counter to speak to a big, blonde-bearded man. As I looked around the shop in wonder, I notice there was a small figure in the corner with blonde hair and a stretch pad.

_Him._

"Hey." I called to him. And he looked up with his blue, merchant eyes. They were just so beautiful.

"Hey." He said back.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Drawing."

"Can I see?"

"Sure." He handed me the pad. I looked. He drew a meadow with colorful flowers, a radiate sunset, and kids playing.

"This is really good."

"Thank you." Then a woman's voice started yelling and that's where I learned his name. _Peeta. _She was screaming for him and he looked terrified.

"I got to go." He said and went through the door behind the counter. I heard thumping and my dad told me it was time to go. She was hurting him. I just knew it.

When I was sixteen, the witch asked me for a favor. Her youngest boy ran away from one of his beatings. She promised me four loafs of bread if I find him. I didn't do it for her or for the bread though.

I did it because I was worried for his safety.

I found him outside of the fence. Don't worry, it shocked me too. He was huddled in a tree hollow, his arms wrapped around his legs and his head buried in his knees.

"Hey." I called and he looked up to me with those beautiful, merchant eyes.

"Hey." His cheek was red and I pressed my hand against it gently. It was burning hot.

"My mom sent you, didn't she?" His hand went to his cheek and covered mines.

"Yeah."

"I don't want to go back." He said, his voice sounding so small. I sighed and helped him to his feet. I didn't want him to go back either. Back to that witch to hurt him again. He was too good of a person. And he was my friend. Just my friend, right?

"You don't have to go back." I told him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"What?"

"Well, at least not for tonight." I said. "I'm sure my mom won't mind. I'll take you back home in the morning. Is that okay?"

"Yeah." He said, then smiled. "That would be okay." I started walking but his hold on my hand stopped me. He wasn't moving and I turned around to see what the problem was.

He was looking at me with those eyes. Ocean blue eyes piercing their way into my gray Seam ones. "Gale..." My name rolled off his lips in his sweet voice. "I..." He stepped closer to me, our lips only inches apart. "I..." I could see his internal conflict, his debating on doing what he wants or doing what is right. I decided to resolve what he was feeling and pressed my lips against his.

As soft as cotton and as sweet as the bread he makes, I pressed my lips against his harder, wrapping my arm around his waist, pulling him closer to me. His feelings resolved as he wrapped one arm around my neck and tangled his other hand in my hair. Our lips moving against each other, moving in perfect rhythm, in a rhythm only we knew.

I pulled away from him, slightly panting. He looked at me, panting himself.

"Come on. Let's go home." He stayed in my arms all night. When I brought him back to the bakery, he got a beating and all I got was a loaf of stale bread.

We kept our relationship in silence, meeting at night, in the woods, to keep our affair away from the judgment eyes of the district. To keep our lingering hugs and loving kisses private. It was our routine. Our own little thing.

The Hunger Games. Peeta was reaped, as you know. It made him think about what he should do to stay alive and what he really wants to do. To be with my dear friend, Katniss, and not have everyone he loves (including me) killed or to be with me and loses everything. That choice is really a no-brainier.

Someone just entered my cell. I know because the loud closing of my cell door broke me out of my concussion-induced bread-boy thoughts.

"Well, well. If it isn't the girl on fire's famous cousin." President Snow. Wow, they got the president of the nation to kill me. How lovely.

"Now tell me cousin, where is the rest of your squad and your _precious_little Peeta?" Why does he put so much emphasize on the word precious? Does he know about me and Peeta? I can almost bet he does. Katniss says he's been watching her and Peeta since the Games.

"I don't know." I spit out a mouthful of blood before saying. And is it me or does it strongly smell of roses in here?

"Of course, you don't." He paced back and front in front of me. "Do you know what we do to prisoners who has betrayed the Capital and the nation of Panem?" He asked, not giving me time to answer. "We kill them." Obviously.

"But do we know what we do prisoners with some type of sex appeal and interest?" He asked, still pacing. "Like your little Peeta?" My mind perked up at the sound of Peeta's name. What did they do to him?

"Well, we give their bodies to wealthy members. Getting a profit and also torturing them in the process." He said, the strong smell of roses clouded my senses.

"Your Peeta... It was so cute how he cried when they were finished with him. It was even cuter when he cried your name when that Peacekeeper took his virginity. Tshh, tshh... Poor boy was wanting you to save him. Too bad you never did." That's when I lifted my head up and spit a huge glob of spit and blood in his face. I was happy when I heard him growled and called the guards.

_'I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry, Peeta. I wasn't there when you needed me. I wasn't there. I'm so sorry.'_, I thought as the guards came with their guns and Snow wiped the spit from his face.

"Looks like he's not giving us answers. Get rid of him." He said before turning on his heel and leaving. That's when I heard the _'CLICK!' _of the guns and felt the barrels pressed against my head.

I should be afraid. I should be crying and begging for my life. But I'm not.

Peeta's safe. He's going to live. If I live, I put him in danger. If losing my life means saving his, then I'll do it more times than one.

As I heard the blast of the guns and my entire whole goes black, I was happy.

He's safe. My little bread boy is safe. And that's all I want.

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**A/N: And I am done. If you like it, review. I might do more stories like this in the future. But that's only if people review. Remember, Review equals love. :-)**

**Sorry, I do this exit thing at the end of my stories. You'll get used to it.**

**Alright, I'm done. Please review, thanks for reading, peace out and have a nice evening. :-)**


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